


Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

by Harukami



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: I'm sure I'm not the first person who wrote this, M/M, lol hair porn, that's impossible right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku really, really, really likes Aoba's hair. (There is no excuse for this fanfic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Aoba's hair had been growing out again for a while -- of course, he let Koujaku trim it so it wasn't the shaggy mess it had been for so much of his life, but he sort of missed the feeling of hair on the back of his neck and shoulders, and when he said as much, Koujaku had just spread his hands and smiled. "It's your hair," he said. "Whatever Aoba wants goes."

"Wow, letting me get away with a lot as a boyfriend," Aoba had said, daringly.

Koujaku had flushed a little, mimed a scowled at him. "It's a hairdresser's professionalism," he said, with a sniff.

So, Aoba had grown his hair out, and kept it that way for a while, but after about six months, before they went to bed, he rolled over, rested his head against Koujaku's shoulder and said, sleepily, "I'm about ready to have it cut again."

Koujaku nuzzled into his hair and breathed, "Yeah? For real?"

"Mm, for real."

"Then ... there's something I want to do," Koujaku said.

Aoba frowned against his skin, scattering exhausted kisses. "More than cutting it? Is it a specific style or something? Don't buzz it, okay, I don't think I'd handle that--"

"Of course not," Koujaku said, affronted -- though whether it was at the implication he'd cause Aoba pain, or the idea of how Aoba would look with a buzzcut, Aoba wasn't sure.

Aoba just laughed softly and curled closer. "Whatever you want is yours," he murmured, and fell asleep.

The next day, he came home from Heibon to find the chair set up in the bedroom that Koujaku used to cut his hair in private, and said, "Ah, already?"

"I didn't want to wait," Koujaku said, smiling, and gestured to the chair. "Please, feel free."

Aoba sat comfortably. "So, what was the thing you were thinking of? A new style? You never told me."

"No, no, it's something to do before the hair's actually cut. Actually, I've been thinking of it for a while," Koujaku said, voice a little _too_ casual as he came up behind Aoba.

Aoba started to turn to glance at him. "What is--" he began, and then just finished with, " _What_ ," as Koujaku draped his cock on Aoba's shoulder.

He stared at Koujaku's cock. It seemed, in its own way, to stare back, half-hard already, apparently in anticipation. "W-WHAT THE HELL, KOUJAKU???"

"You can feel it, right?" Koujaku murmured, to which Aoba had been going to answer, yes, yes, he could feel it sitting right there on his shoulder _but why was it there_ , but again, before he had a chance to fully protest, Koujaku's deft fingers took a lock of Aoba's hair and wound it around his cock, and all that came out of Aoba's mouth was " _Ah..._ "

And the truth was, yes. He could feel it. Usually his hair didn't feel more than pressure, which could feel nice if touched by someone he cared for, or unpleasant if unexpected, or touched too roughly, or by someone he didn't like, and intellectually he knew it was the same here. His hair was picking up the _pressure_ of being wrapped around Koujaku's cock, the pressure of Koujaku's cock slowly hardening in its winding locks, the pressure of Koujaku leaning into that. He knew that he wasn't picking up the texture or the heat, but he knew that so intimately now that he found himself projecting it anyway.

He couldn't see much of Koujaku's dick from here, not really, so he closed his eyes and shuddered, imagining how it looked with those blue strands wrapped tight all the way around it. "Idiot," he breathed. "What are you doing? You're impossible..."

"It's good..." Koujaku said. "I just wanted to feel it... I wanted you to feel this too ... you're the only person in the world who could."

Aoba bit his lower lip, slid down a little in his seat, and slowly unzipped his pants, drawing his own hardening cock out of it, wrapping a fist around it. "I can't believe you're -- hnn -- getting off on my hair--"

"In it," Koujaku said. "Hopefully in it." 

Shaking his head, Aoba began to form another retort, then didn't bother to speak at all; the movement had tightened his hair around Koujaku's cock, which he felt tightly, roughly, and which drew a low groan from Koujaku. He just tried to focus on breathing past the strange, strange erotic sensation, stroking himself a bit fast -- unable to help it, feeling Koujaku playing with his hair, sliding it around all over his dick, rubbing a handful over the head. He felt precome catch, slicking his hair, sticking strands together, and shuddered hard, twisting his wrist to give himself more pressure on his cock.

For the first time in his life, he actually wished he had _more_ sensation in his hair, wished he could pick out the different sensations from each strand as they caught and rubbed and tangled around the ridges of Koujaku's cock, slid through the slit, tangled around the head. It did hurt, a little, in its own way, where strands knotted from the rough handling Koujaku was giving them, but that pain felt good, gave him something else to go on as he jerked himself off, worrying at his lower lip and letting out the most embarrassing moans and sighs.

"Aoba," Koujaku breathed. "Aoba, Aoba, Aoba... your hair's amazing..."

"You," Aoba breathed, in a tone that he meant to be exasperated but just came out a deep, desperate groan, and jerked his hips up off the chair, squeezing himself roughly as Koujaku grabbed a lock and _pulled_ , squeezing it tight around himself. "Ah-- _Ah--_ " and then he was coming, spilling out over his fist and up over his stomach and shirt, whimpering and groaning and gasping.

He managed, as he heard Koujaku's answering groan, to open his eyes just in time to meet Koujaku's, see the haze of pleasure on his face as he fisted Aoba's hair and jerked himself off in it, felt the strange, wet, sticky spread as Koujaku came in his hair. 

Koujaku seemed, Aoba thought hazily, to come an awful lot. Had he really wanted something like this for so long?

"That," Aoba breathed through his rough breaths as he came down from the aftershocks of his orgasm, "would be absolutely miserable to wash out."

With his head fallen forward, only Koujaku's smile was visible. "Well," he said, throatily, "why do you think I waited until you were ready to cut it-?"

"Clever," Aoba murmured. "Very clever."

"I'm a professional, after all."


End file.
